In Pursuit of Wonder

September 8, 2024

Jesse and I decided we should once again enjoy a hike on this beautiful September day – ceasing the opportunity before corn harvesting begins. We returned to Whitewater State Park in the late afternoon, this time exploring the other side of the park. Jesse parked the car in the parking lot near the beach. We sauntered down the gravel path to the bridge crossing the river, the swimming area on our right – only a single family was on the beach; they appeared to be taking photos, all dressed fairly similar. We strolled along a grassy area to yet another bridge, pausing at the steps leading up to it. Jesse studied the map. He always does this, even though we know the trails. Having volunteered at this park more than a decade ago, and frequented it often throughout my childhood and adulthood, I never use the map, I know the trails well. 

Perhaps slightly impatient to start hiking, I headed up the stone steps to the bridge and leaned on the rail, taking in the flowing river. Satisfied, Jesse turned away from the signpost and joined me. We always marvel at the clarity of the Whitewater River, at least through the park; we are able to observe the silty, rock strewn bottom. Many people enjoy the Whitewater River, trout fishing is extremely popular for all ages in the park. We used to swim in the river every summer, but it is shockingly cold. The banks of the river are overgrown with all sorts of non-woody vegetation and sumac. Trees flank the river, hemming it in completely. The beauty of the whole is breathtaking and peaceful. Birds chitter, chatter, and sing. The water gurgles over rocks. This is an excellent place to visit to restore the soul. 

Although Jesse relishes soaking in the beauty, he never lingers long, that is not until we’ve reached our hike’s destination. He led the way across the wooden planked bridge to the bluff directly on the other side. We had chosen to hike to Inspiration Point today, via the starting point at Chimney Rock Trail – the other route is to begin in the south picnic area parking lot on Trout Run Trail. The climbing of the bluff is less arduous at Chimney Rock, thus it is our desired starting point. However, at least for me, it is still a breathless scramble up wide stone steps, which seem to take more out of me than just ambling up the bluff side would. But please, stay on the designated trail – these dreaded steps cut down on erosion. With a much longer stride, Jesse seems to glide up the steps with the nimbleness of a mountain goat, far ahead of me, I couldn’t tell if he was breathless. I always find my breathlessness frustrating, I am not wildly out of shape, it’s just I have exercise induced asthma that always makes me feel ashamed. The stone steps wind up alongside the bluff rather than straight up it, shaded by gorgeous trees. 

On the ridge at the top, perches another signpost, once again Jesse paused to read the map, waiting for me to finish the climb. I had only a moment to collect myself before he turned right, leading the way along the ridge. We scrambled up the rock and tree root strewn trail – this is the kind of terrain I prefer to hike, moderately difficult. From time to time we may trip on a rock or tree root, feeling a little sheepish but encourage the other with the fact that we both do it. Characterful trees stand guard over the trail, the beauty of this park cannot be adequately described – the dipping sunlight filtering through the still green leaves, highlighting them. The climb is challenging, but ambling up the dirt, rock, root coated slope rather than the stepping up of stairs, is exhilarating. 

We stepped out from the trees to an overlook. As of yet, there is no hint of color in the tree leaves, the bluffs across the enclosed river valley are a deep green. I enjoy peering into the treetops at eye-level, their toes far down the bluff slope below us. The twisting, bleached trunk of a cedar always receives my admiration. The sumacs are slowly turning bright red, a delightful shade. Jesse and I have a special fondness for the robust oak trees that live along this trail. I took note of young basswood trees just starting their life. A pinkish, lavender aster bloomed alongside Canada goldenrod. Jesse often asks me to identify plants on our various hikes, sometimes I can confidently do so, as I am slowly learning the plants we encounter, but too often I have no idea. I wish I could identify everything we observed, cherishing knowledge about these wonderful non-human beings. 

Leaving the overlook, the mostly dirt trail meanders through lush vegetation, bordered by trees, across the bluff ridge. I am never able to resist taking numerous photos, falling even further behind Jesse. When we meet other people coming from the other direction, we step aside to allow them to pass with ease. The hillside on the left fills with ostrich ferns, lending a fairytale atmosphere to the trail. We amble upward again, over pine roots. The beauty and climb takeaway my breath. A sedimentary outcropping greets us, with yet another visually stimulating cedar growing beside it. Rocks, trees, and rivers are my therapy. Maple trees join the neighborhood here. Perched nearly on the trail, a large oak with a gaping hole never ceases to catch my eye, and lens. I wonder who may be living inside. Peering down the side of the bluff, is an impressive sight, generally steep and a long way down. Jesse leaned seductively against a tree, waiting for me to catch up. We kiss briefly before continuing onward. 

This trail is always longer than I remember it to be, but I enjoy it all the same. It makes a nearly ninety degree turn, following the contour of the bluff. We crossed a couple of washouts filled with rocks and tree debris. We scrambled uphill, over loose wooden steps, the trail evens out a bit on the side of the bluff, but then descends stone steps. Then the trial twists around the bluff and climbs up one more time. 

The bluff top flattened, and we were greeted by a smooth, large sedimentary stone. The trail is dusty, powdery dirt, textured with partially submerged stones and tree roots. Sumac lines the path on either side. Four cedars toward the end of the point beckon us forward. We dodge stumps of other cedars that have been sawn down. I find their texture aesthetically pleasing. The dirt path gave way to stone as we drew nearer to the point. We skirted around some boulders, ambled up and down others, being very careful as the bluff narrowed, either side a several hundred foot drop. Jesse approached the point ahead of me, looking out over the valley before taking a seat on the edge. I take a few photos and then join him. Our feet dangle over the edge. We enjoy the view: tree covered bluffs, hints of the stream, a vertical and bare cliff face. Best of all, we could not see any sign of human made objects. Inspiration Point lives up to its name. Years ago, Jesse and I came here with friends, as friends – he was trying so desperately to get out of the friend zone, and I doubted he was interested in more than just friendship though others said he liked me. How far we’ve come and how much we have weathered together. We’d returned alone to Inspiration Point as a dating couple shortly after that friendly hike, stars in our eyes, still getting to know one another but totally smitten. Fourteen years later, knowing each other more deeply and intimately, we are that much more smitten. And hiking together is still an important part of our relationship. 

After lingering in the peace of the view for a long while, we decided to keep trekking, standing up mindfully and stepping away from the edge one at a time. Instead of returning the way we had come, Jesse led us right, down the other side of the bluff. Promptly, we turn right again down, down steep and narrow steps, each barely deep enough for my foot. My knees hate these steps. I paused momentarily to take in some white aster blossoms, then join Jesse waiting for me several feet away from the steps. We amble onward along the narrow dirt, rock strewn trail, climbing upwards yet again to another set of stairs, thankfully less steep. These twist and turn down the remaining bluff slope to a wide flat path below. This trail is beautiful, winding through the floodplain forest, taking us close to the river, but the terrain is too easy to navigate to be super fun, even so we enjoy the trees and other plants around us. We stopped on the bridge, sat down, removed our shoes and socks, and plunged our hot feet into the frigid water. Sound of the stream riffling over rocks is a soothing balm. 

A few minutes later, we remove our feet from the water, resting them on the bridge to air dry for a few moments before, begrudgingly, putting our socks and shoes back on our feet. We continue to trek alongside the river most of the way back to the south picnic area parking lot. Yellow, orchid-like blooms of jewelweed halt our progress briefly. Then a squirrel on the signpost stopped us in our tracks as I tried to snap a photo before it scampered away. 

We pause along the road, on the bridge, to take in the river once more, then continue along the road to the nature store parking area. From there, we walked along the highway to explore the prairie and forest area between the beach parking lot and the new campgrounds. I photographed the characterful, eye-catching blacked-eyed Susan’s and the elegant bluestem grasses. In the woods, we observed the red berries of jack in the pulpits. Vultures sat ominously in the eastern white pine branches far above our heads, flying away when we drew close – we have observed them perched in these trees many times. The sun sank lower, we reluctantly returned to the car to end our adventure and head for home.

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